


Close Enough

by georgiamagnolia



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Alternate After Canon, Established Relationship, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A change in job title doesn't always mean everything changes and some things are always the same, like Illya and Napoleon saving the world and protecting one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Enough

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Napoleon looked up from the folders stacked in front of him, laid down the pen then used both hands to rub his eyes. “Busted.” He shut the folder and stacked it with the others in his briefcase, another unread stack he squared up and secured with a binder clip then slid them on top of the finished pile and shut the case. “Do you suppose the big boss will let me slide on finishing these until tomorrow?” Napoleon gave Illya a tired half of a smile.

“I don’t know. I could go upstairs and ask him.”

“I heard he left for home already.”

“In that case I think you can let it slide if you get in early in the morning and have the files on his desk first thing,” Illya shrugged, “he’ll never know the difference.”

“I hear he’s usually on time. I‘d need him to come in pretty late to get all these files on his desk before morning coffee.” Napoleon’s expression was perfectly serious.

“That can be arranged.” Illya was equally deadpan.

Napoleon stood, took his jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged into it. He tweaked the lapels to make it hang over his shoulder holster right then shot his cuffs and checked his watch before again scrubbing his face with his hands. “Let me lock up these files and then I’m ready to go.” Napoleon picked up the briefcase as he rounded the desk, heading for the door. “I’m guessing you got done with your project in the labs?”

Illya followed Napoleon out the door and fell in step beside him as they made their way down the hall to the elevator. “I’m at a good stopping point. I think I can find some more time to make some progress on it late next week.”

The elevator was empty and they leaned against the back wall after the door closed and Napoleon had pressed the button for their next stop. “What’s wrong with tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow I am reviewing the security plans for your trip to Berlin and finalizing assignments for the agents that are covering security here while we are gone.” Illya didn’t sigh but Napoleon could hear it in his tone, “You are not the only one with performance reviews to read and file.”

“Do you think we do more work now than we did before?”

“You’d rather be shot at and beaten on an almost daily basis, not to mention being kidnapped, drugged, interrogated, left for dead, plotted against…”

Napoleon chuckled, interrupting Illya’s litany of escapades past. “You’re right, as always. Paperwork is superior to all those things.” The door opened and they emerged into the corridor of the Section One offices. “But after a day of paperwork and driving a desk, do you feel alive?” Napoleon looked over at Illya but got no answer as Illya’s communicator started to buzz.

Illya answered the communicator and waved Napoleon on as they approached the Section One Number One outer office. He spoke softly with his subordinate on the other end of the call while Napoleon continued forward.

Napoleon stopped at the desk in front of the door, briefcase in one hand and other fisted on his hip. “Miss Abraham, what are you doing?”

The girl at the desk looked up, wide eyed. “Sir, I’m sorry, I was just finishing…”

“Something you obviously started after I left and that will still be there in the morning. As will you be if I don’t chase you away from your desk.” Napoleon’s tone softened and he smiled gently. “Deborah, you are not required to stay chained to your desk as long as I am still in the building. Whatever that is can wait, I’m certain.”

“I’m getting the backlog of transcription caught up, that’s all.”

“So I’m right, one more night’s delay will not end the world as we know it. Go home,” Napoleon smiled again, “that’s an order Miss Abraham.”

“Yes sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir.” Napoleon watched as she pulled her bag out of the bottom drawer of the desk. He sat his briefcase on the desk and gently took her coat from her when she stood and took it from the hook behind her chair. He held the coat as she slipped into it. “I don’t want to see you before nine in the morning, young lady.”

“Yes, sss.”

“Ah ah ah.”

“Yes, Mr. Solo.”

“Better. Next time I say I am leaving early, that means you are free to leave at a reasonable hour, even if you know I’m hiding out in my old office. See you in the morning, Deborah.”

“Nine oh one, sharp.”

Napoleon laughed. Illya walked in as Deborah was leaving, they exchanged good evenings and Illya joined Napoleon as he entered the inner office.

Illya settled in a chair in front of the desk as Napoleon transferred files from his briefcase to various drawers in the desk and some to discreetly disguised file cabinets.

“Drink?”

“Will you be that long?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Problems in your world?” Napoleon asked nodding at the communicator that Illya still held, tapping against his bottom lip.

“Hm?” Illya stopped tapping the pen-looking instrument and looked at it, then tucked it in his inside jacket pocket. “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Uh huh. Pull the other leg now, partner.”

Illya made a sound that conveyed both frustration and weariness. “A security breach at one of UNCLE’s apartment buildings that turned out to be old wiring married to new and then a failed background check on some new staff at the club downstairs.” Illya stood when he saw that Napoleon was finished with his sorting of files. “None of it cause for emergency, only annoyance.”

“Nothing that won’t keep until morning? Someone might have promised me a late start tomorrow.”

“I recall no promises being mentioned.” Illya turned and left the office, Napoleon following in his wake.

 

Napoleon nodded at the Section Three men stationed within sight of the car he and Illya would drive home, they nodded back. One stepped forward for a word with Illya while Napoleon continued on to the car.

“Chief gonna let you drive?”

Napoleon turned, “Depends on if he wants dinner or not.”

The security man looked a little puzzled and held out a set of keys as he approached.

“Thank you Mr. Harahan,” Napoleon took the keys. “If my Security Chief wants to drive he gets to go home and cook all by himself, if he wants me to spring for dinner he lets me drive.”

Illya joined them and plucked the keys out of Napoleon’s hand. “I’m driving, you get to buy dinner tomorrow.”

“Don’t we have some dignitary dinner tomorrow?”

“In that case neither of us will be driving.”

Napoleon shrugged at Harahan as if to say ‘what can you do’ and opened the car door that Illya had leaned over to unlock from inside.

 

Illya looked over his shoulder as Napoleon came into the kitchen then turned back to the stove. “Cooking all alone in my kitchen and yet I seem to have gained a bartender.”

“Take a sip and then tell me you are unhappy with the arrangement.”

Illya took the proffered glass and kept stirring the dish on the stove. He sipped and nodded, sitting the glass down on the counter. “I am perfectly pleased with the arrangement.”

Napoleon gave Illya a self satisfied grin and put his own drink on the table then went to a cupboard to get dishes and started setting the table for dinner.

Illya brought dinner to the table and held out a hand for the plate in front of Napoleon.

“Smells great,” Napoleon said when he took the plate of steamed rice covered in crisp vegetables and tender chicken. He opened the soy sauce bottle and started to shake it over his plate, inhaling the mingled scents. His mouth watered and he realized he might have forgotten lunch.

“And it’s good for you.”

“We certainly do a whole lot of things that are good for us these days.”

“The price of surviving years of dodging bullets perhaps, now we have to work at living longer.”

Napoleon chuckled and passed the bottle to Illya. “Yes, now we just dodge politicians and their agendas.”

Illya smiled over his own plate and looked over at Napoleon. “You dodge them, I just watch your back as you go.”

Napoleon raised his glass in a silent toast and then went back to his dinner with enthusiasm.

***

“Feeling alive now?”

“For the moment. Remind me next time I complain about paperwork that I’m getting too damn old for this.”

“Never.” Illya gave Napoleon a feral grin and then dived over the top of him to take a shot.

Napoleon checked his weapon one more time and took his place beside his partner and continued to make covering fire as Illya reloaded his own Special. The enemy seemed to have run out of steam and the two broke from their cover behind a huge stone column and made it to the stairwell. A pair of Section Three agents came sprinting up the steps as they entered the stairwell. Illya gave them a rundown of the situation and then hustled Napoleon down the stairs toward the basement exit. Another pair of UNCLE agents was waiting for them and all four piled into the motor pool car and the agent driving broke several traffic laws getting them out of the underground garage and back to their apartment building.

 

“Accounting is going to have a field day with this.”

Illya looked up and grinned at Napoleon then went back to untying his shoes and stripping the dress socks off. He wiggled his toes in the deep pile of the carpet and grinned again when Napoleon continued to lament the state of his tuxedo.

“Maybe we should have gone right to headquarters and filed the report.”

“No, Napoleon. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“Are you letting your Section Three boys get them softened up for you or are you afraid I will go in and steal your thunder with an interrogation of my own?” Napoleon grinned at Illya as he removed his cufflinks and shirt studs.

“Neither.” Illya stood and joined Napoleon at the dresser and started to remove his own cufflinks and tie, watching Napoleon in the mirror over the dresser top.

Napoleon turned away and took off the jacket, inspecting the torn shoulder seam. At his indrawn breath Illya turned.

Illya took the jacket from Napoleon then cursed in several languages, throwing the jacket toward the corner and taking a hold of Napoleon instead. He ran his hand over Napoleon’s shoulder, his touch as gentle as his voice was harsh. “Too close, Napoleon, too damn close.”

“I swear I didn’t know. I thought the target was the exiled prince.”

“It probably was, but you would be…” Illya broke off and then continued in a few more languages with several colourful curses salted in.

Napoleon gripped Illya’s shoulders to stop the tirade. “I am no cherry on top of any assassination attempt and you had plenty of security in place so it was foiled and we have them in custody. Your men did their jobs and will continue to do so.”

“Too close, they got too close this time.”

“They will never get close enough, Illya, not when I have you to watch my back.” Napoleon cut off any further response from Illya by leaning in and giving him a kiss, a thorough and protracted kiss that tasted of the wine they had with dinner and the danger that had appeared with the cheese course. Illya responded.

Illya ran his hands over Napoleon’s bare skin, mapping past scars as if to be sure that they were healed or that they would not be joined by new ones if he could just cover them all with his touch. Tuxedo pieces were strewn across the floor between the dresser and the bed and for once Napoleon had not even paid attention to where they landed, he had only noticed the heat in Illya that was answered by a rising hunger of his own.

Napoleon left a trail across Illya’s chest, marking the tender spot beneath his collar bone and next to one nipple, high up on his ribs and in the center of his stomach above his navel, sucking and licking his way along until Illya flipped him and repaid him in kind, making his own ownership known across tender skin with lips and hands.

Napoleon did his best to repay his partner’s move but Illya had the leverage to prevent him, until Napoleon hooked one arm under Illya’s knee and lifted, getting him right where he wanted him, if not where Illya had planned. Napoleon wrapped a hand around Illya’s hard cock and guided the tip against his tongue and was rewarded with mirrored action. He lapped and stroked and finally pulled Illya’s hips down with both hands on his ass to suck the length of him as deep as he could, feeling Illya return stroke for stroke and grip for grip. Napoleon was close and knew his lover was as well when Illya stopped and gasped out a command to wait, or it could have been a plea, Napoleon was too close to the edge to tell which. With one final tongue tip caress he stopped and waited, achingly hard.

Illya rolled and reversed then pulled an unresisting Napoleon over him, hands fisted in his lover’s hair to pull him in for a kiss, thighs open and cradling Napoleon’s erection against his own. “Not close enough,” he muttered between devastating kisses, hips pushing to slide wet cock against cock. “I want you, Napoleon, inside me now,” and Illya was kissing him again, one hand on the back of Napoleon’s neck to bring him kissing close and the other snaking between them to stroke. Napoleon supported himself on one elbow and with the other hand stroked down Illya’s side and then between to join Illya’s stroking, maddening hand. Illya stroked with his other hand from the nape of Napoleon’s neck down to the curve of his ass and back up, again and again.

“And if I want you inside?” Napoleon’s whisper in Illya’s ear was harsh with need and arousal.

“I already flipped you for it, Napoleon.” Illya drew his lover’s name out as Napoleon bit his earlobe and then licked around the curve of his ear, breath soft on the exhale and hard on the inhale the way Napoleon knew would make Illya arch into him and shiver with the sensation.

Illya fumbled blind under a pillow and pulled out a tube, thumbed off the cap and pushed it into Napoleon’s hand.

“Planned ahead I see,” Napoleon said and leaned up to spread slick lubricant generously on his fingers.

“Only partly.” Illya sucked in a breath at the sensation of cool slick fingers, then arched into the strokes as Napoleon worked one and then two fingers in and out with a slow sure rhythm. Napoleon leaned down to kiss his lover again.

Illya found the tube and helped himself to it, warming the cool stuff in his palms and then applying them to Napoleon’s cock, stroking with the same slowness that Napoleon used, matching the way they always did. The kiss finally broke and Napoleon leaned back again, grabbed a pillow and pushed it under Illya’s hips for support, then started the long slow slide inside the heat of his lover. Illya locked his ankles in the small of Napoleon’s back and pulled him in, arching to meet him with every down stroke Napoleon made, pushing him to move faster. Napoleon braced one hand on the headboard and the other he wrapped around Illya’s cock and stroked him in time with his movements, giving in to Illya’s need for more and faster.

Illya arched into the strokes, inside and out and starbursts went off every time Napoleon stroked against his prostate, deliberate slow strokes and then faster as he demanded. Illya braced his hands against the headboard for leverage and arched higher, rewarded with deeper strokes from his partner. His neck arched and his eyes clenched tight as all his muscles locked in the rush of his orgasm and he let out a growl that brought Napoleon over the edge with him.

Napoleon traced lazy patterns over Illya’s skin with his fingertips, languid and relaxed in the aftermath of their lovemaking, side by side in the big bed with the blankets strewn on the floor and pillows askew.

“Yes, Illya.”

Illya stopped stroking his fingers through his lover’s hair and raised his head to look at Napoleon. “Yes?”

“Your question earlier tonight. Yes, I am feeling alive now, never more than when I am with you like this, _MoyO sErtse_.”

Illya leaned down and kissed Napoleon gently, lips soft on his and tender, like his touch earlier searching for wounds after discovering the bullet graze on the jacket shoulder. “Alive you shall stay then, my friend.” Illya smiled.


End file.
